


works in progress

by jillyfae



Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: (in chapter 4), F/F, F/M, Fanmix, Ficlet Collection, Friendship, Politics, Romance, but I thought I should explain myself a bit, just in case, one chapter is Leverage Crossover Ridiculousness, which I really don't want in the Leverage Tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: Problem Princesses Prompts! Maybe not always in trouble, but it's about to happen at any moment.





	1. Haunted (Hana of Jiyel/Hamin of Hise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [anonymous prompt](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/142038170878)

“I do not believe in ghosts.” Hana sniffed, while very carefully keeping her gaze down at the ground, watching carefully to keep her stride steady.

And not look for weird lights in the windows.

Or encourage Hamin to be even more … _Hamin,_  than usual.

She could hear Hamin’s smile as he answered. “You said that already.”

“They are entirely illogical.”

“Said that too.”

She gave up and lifted her head to glare at him. “Why are you _grinning_ , Hamin of Hise?”

“Whyever shouldn’t I, Miss Hanako of Jiyel?” He had the nerve to wink at her. “We’re having an adventure, aren’t we?”

She couldn’t quite help smiling. Or blushing, judging by the warmth of her face. “I suppose we are.”

“And one where you hold my hand.” His fingers squeezed gently around hers. “Best adventure ever.”

“Do shush.” She squeezed back, and could not think of a single reason to let go.

Possibly ever.

“Never.”

She shook her head at him, and sighed as loudly as she could manage, just to watch the flash of his smile as he tilted his head towards her in something like a half a bow. “Well then, help me find a room slightly less ruinous than the rest of them while you chatter, at least?”

“Are you sure?” He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The Tower’s the only bit still standing. And is where they died. Most likely spot for ghosts, if there are any.”

“I hate you.” She stepped closer, close enough to almost feel the warmth of him standing beside her.

“No you don’t.” He tugged gently, and she slid even closer, lifting her chin to look him in the face.

“Maybe a little?” She attempted. She was terribly unconvincing, even to herself.

“Nope, not even a little.” She could feel his breath against her cheek now, they were so close. “You’re still holding my hand, you know.”

“You are terrible aggravating when you’re right.”

“Oh, say that last bit again.”

“No.” She slid her fingers free, stepped back to smooth down the front of her dress, trying to remember what she _ought_  to be doing, rather than what she was afraid she wanted.

“Spoilsport.” 

“It’s a good thing we’re already practically engaged, or getting left behind to spend the night perched uncomfortably on rocks and moss outside a haunted house with a _pirate_  would simply destroy my reputation.” _There. That sounded reasonable. Didn’t it?_

“What do you need a reputation for?”  He tilted his head, still smiling, though there was a shadow in his eyes, that faintest hint of melancholy that occasionally hid behind his words, where she didn’t think anyone else had ever heard it.

“Keeping the ambassadors happy? We do want them to agree to our engagement, after all.” She realized she was standing right in front of him again, leaning in, prepared to poke him in the chest if he didn’t listen. _I am not letting them take you away from me, idiot._  “Plus the whole _peace accords_  we’re supposed to be helping along?”

“* _thbbbt_ *” He stuck his tongue out at her, but the shadow had vanished, eyes flashing above the loveliest smile she’d ever seen. 

“You make a very compelling argument, but I recognize that grin. You’re teasing.”

“Would I tease you?” He gasped, so outrageously innocent a question as to never be believed.

“Always.” She lifted her chin, and pretended she was tall enough to look down her nose at him.

He reached over and tweaked her nose. “Oh, you think you’ve figured me out that well, do you?”

She considered sticking her tongue out at him, as he had done to her. She didn’t. Quite. “Isn’t that part of what you like about me?”

“Maybe.” His voice dropped, his shoulder lifted in half a shrug.

“Oh, don’t be shy now, I wouldn’t know what to do with a shy pirate.”

“We couldn’t have that, could we?” Somehow she was holding his hand again, his thumb moving softly across the ridges of her knuckles. “Must make sure you always know what to do with me.”

“I never know what I’m doing with you.” She felt oddly breathless, for all she’d had more strenuous debates, was doing nothing but standing there, her voice barely a whisper as she felt the warmth of the sun against her shoulder.

“At least we’re lost together?”

“Best way to be.” Her eyes closed as the both leaned in, as she felt the warmth of his breath against his mouth, and she couldn’t think, didn’t need to think, never, ever again.

“Pardon,” a terribly familiar throat-clearing seemed to echo against the stones around them, and she jumped, and quite desperately did stare down at her toes again as she turned towards the voice, as she felt the heat rush up beneath her skin. “Shall we, my lady Hanako?”

“Of course, Jasper.” She started to step forward, and Hamin’s hand tightened around hers again. She tugged, and when he stepped forward she let go just long enough to slide her arm in his, keeping them close enough they had to walk in step or risk bumping hips and tangling her skirt against his boots. 

“Only a few more weeks,” she muttered under her breath.

She heard the barest sound of Hamin’s laughter, only just louder than his breath, and then he began to whistle at her side, something bright and jaunty and probably terribly inappropriate, judging by the way Jasper’s shoulders tightened in front of them.

“Do please stop teasing my butler, Hamin. He is a very helpful butler, and I do like him.”

“Ah well, since you asked so nicely.” Hamin started humming after he finished speaking, but it was something else this time, low and slow and sweet, and either polite enough to soothe Jasper’s nerves, or quiet enough he could pretend to ignore it.

No one else spoke until they were forced to part ways before Hamin’s rooms, under Jasper’s steady gaze, so all she got was another wink, and a waggle of fingers as he slipped out of her grasp and behind the solid wood of his door.

She sighed, and caught the slightest twitch of something that might have been amusement crossing Jasper’s face.

“Yes, Jasper?” Hana sighed again as they continued on towards her room. _I’m going to give myself the vapors at this rate, goodness._

“Only a few more weeks, my lady.” She blinked up at him in surprise, and he really did smile that time, an actual full normal person curve of lips, before he gently nudged her into her room and shut the door between them.

“Thank you, Jasper!” She shouted out through the door, imagining the wince that probably caused, and turned to head into her rooms proper, trying to remember the melody of Hamin’s song as she started to whistle to herself.

_Only a few more weeks. I can do that._


	2. Leverage Team on Vail Isle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [I have no real explanation for this.](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/126553321873)

_Sophie,_  Sophie is sure she will be the perfect delegate. She’s too old, of course, but no one has the nerve to say that to her face, and she pretends the thought never even occurred to her.

She knows precisely what everyone wants to hear, after all, how to tell it to them so they believe it, how to look at someone while they’re talking so that they will pause later, and remember her, _and smile._

She lies back in her bath that first night, the soft footsteps of her servants in her room, just beyond the door, and thinks _she has made it,_  this, this is it.

She is perfect for Vail Isle, and Vail Isle is perfect for her, and she will have everything she has ever wanted when her seven weeks are done, will have things she hasn’t even dared to dream of, before.

But then she lies to the Matchmaker, ducks her head and lets the stories flow, or she tries, _she tries but it doesn’t work,_  and each word makes things worse than the one before, because of course you have to tell the Matchmaker the truth, _she knows, she always knows,_  and Sophie doesn’t know how to tell the truth, not anymore, not here, _not when it’s this important._

So she is dismissed, _disgraced,_  but she holds her head high, and she keeps her eyes dry, because she will find a way, she will, she will be the one to find the story the Matchmaker has never heard before, _she will prove her wrong,_  she will win.

She has to.

Losing isn’t an option. No matter what it takes.

***

Nate is a chaperone. 

Nate shouldn’t be trusted, not with this, not with these people, but he used to be _so good at it,_  always knew when someone was trying to bend the rules, trying to take advantage, trying to use the Summit for personal gain. Well, they were all trying to use the Summit for personal gain, but he was the best at catching them before they went too far.

Or he used to be.

Now, now no one knows quite what he’s going to do next, and the staff are all keeping an eye on _him,_  and he’s spending too much time with the crews on the Hise ships, rather than the delegates, and they keep finding more dark brown bottles in his quarters than anyone previously thought it would be possible to _get_  on the island, and yet he’s always still got _more_.

But, he knows Sophie, and he seems determined to make sure she, at least, makes it through the Summit, so he’s sort of managing to keep an eye on all of the delegates, if only as a side-effect of his attempt to take good care of one of them.

And no one quite has the heart to ask him to leave. Not after ... well. Not now. Not unless they have to.

***

Parker wasn’t supposed to be there.

She really _really_  wasn’t.

But the proper lady who was _supposed_  to be there never did show up on the docks, and when she got caught, _she was never going to forgive Hardison, she never used to get caught when she worked alone,_  it was pretend to be her, or disappear beneath the Castle as a suspected spy, possibly never to be seen again.

Vail Isle did not like spies. Especially during the Summit.

Never mind she was a thief, not a spy.

Only now she was apparently also _a Lady,_  and if Hardison didn’t stop smiling like that she was going to stab him.

With something sharper than a fork.

***

Hardison smiled a lot.

And made sure not to stand near the buffet tables.

He knew what Parker could do with a regular fork, and they had those fancy long-tined ones, and ... 

He didn’t want to die.

Especially not before the job was done.

It really wasn’t his fault though.

***

Parker was blown.

Sort-of.

But there was only so long she’d manage to make polite conversation without bolting, _at best._

Hardison was over-doing his part _already,_  and Eliot wasn’t sure how that was possible, considering, for once, he had actually been keeping his mouth shut.

But still. He was going to get caught. He never knew when to _stop. And he just kept smiling ..._

Plus Eliot was pretty damned sure he’d seen _Nathan Ford_  down by the docks earlier, and there was a rumor about one of the ladies from Revaire ...

There was only so much he could do, and he was pretty sure they were already in too deep for _any_  of their back up plans to work.

They were doomed.

They were all fucking doomed, and he couldn’t even _hit_  anyone.

Not yet.


	3. Scalding (Maristela of Hise/Gisette of Revaire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [as usual this is lea's fault](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/153230864598)

Gisette’s lips are cool against hers, cool as the fingertips that so lightly rest against Maristela’s neck, cool as the ice in her eyes, her skin, her hair, and it is only when Gisette sighs, relaxing just enough that Maristela can step in closer, can push her back against the column of the gazebo, can slide a hand up her skirt to feel the edge of a lace border on her stockings, can feel the shift of the muscles as her thigh tenses, it is only as Gisette’s eyes close that Maristela burns, hot skin beneath her palm, breath caught in her throat, fire raging in her chest.

The kiss changes, scalding as her mouth opens, as Gisette’s tongue slips delicately, _ruthlessly,_  between her lips.

Gisette’s hands are gentle as they move, back, smoothing slowly against the line of Maristela’s throat, soft, _so soft,_  until they’re not, fingers gripping tight as she pulls Maristela’s hair, pulls her away from their kiss, smiles at the whimper that escapes Maristela’s throat, smiles as Maristela’s mouth stays open, just a little, a hiss of hot breath escaping her.

“Now, now. Mustn’t be too impatient.”

Maristela smiles back, the barest lift on one side of her mouth as her hand shifts, her thumb sliding across Gisette’s hip, slipping past silk to rest on the hottest, softest skin of her inner thigh.

Gisette’s eyes widen, just a little, her fingers loosen, her lips part … and then her smile softens. None of them more than a hint of an expression but enough if you know what to look for, if you’re very _very_ observant. “Maybe later?”

Maristela grins, and lets her hand slip free, makes herself step back, _once, twice,_  and bows, as grand a gesture as she can manage (and she is very good at grand gestures) before she spins around and heads back to her rooms. 

_Not very much later, Princess._


	4. in harmony (Elisabeth of Jiyel / Jasper)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for [quilleth](http://quilleth.tumblr.com/) and the [7KPP Secret Santa](https://7kppsecretsanta.tumblr.com/) (2017)
> 
> Elisabeth belongs to quilleth...
> 
> But I did enjoy admiring her :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion Playlist: [Playmoss](https://playmoss.com/en/jillyfae/playlist/in-harmony) / [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/jillyfae/playlist/40ndcPxXN2URjCVGtyEbOp)
> 
>   1. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, State Academic Symphony Orchestra of Russia “Evgeny Svetlanov”, Vladimir Jurowski - The Sleeping Beauty, Op. 66, TH 13, Act I “The Spell”: No. 7, Entrée d'Aurore
>   2. Vitamin String Quartet - Howl’s Moving Castle - Merry-Go-Round of Life
>   3. Claude Bolling, Jean-Pierre Rampal, Max Hédiguer, Marcel Sabiani - Versatile, Pt. 1 - With Bass Flute
>   4. Aramis String Quartet - A Thousand Years
>   5. Emile Pandolfi - Once Upon a December (from Anastasia)
>   6. Dallas String Quartet - La Muerte Del Angel
>   7. 2Cellos - Shape of My Heart
>   8. Apocalyptica - Nothing Else Matters
>   9. Dmitri Shostakovich, Russian State Symphony Orchestra, Dmitry Yablonsky - Jazz Suite No. 2: VI. Waltz 2
> 


Here and now, the two of them together in the ballroom with the light warm and golden as it poured through the windows, felt somehow momentous. Felt singular, despite all the other times they'd been alone, all the other times he'd met her here, instructed her.

Jasper knew it wasn't something that should make him feel so oddly breathless.

It was simply his duty.

She was his responsibility, his delegate, his charge, _of course he would be honored_.

Anything his lady required.

He would have done the same for anyone.

Had served before, would again; he knew his place.

More importantly he knew _why,_ knew how necessary the Summit was, how vital the delegates, how every step, every word, every look would be judged.

She had to be prepared.

It was his job to always be prepared.

Why then did he feel as if he'd failed, as if he'd fallen, as if anything could happen next?

Why did the tension down his back feel so much like fear?

_She had been a terrible dancer._

She wasn't now.

He'd always enjoyed a challenge.

That was all.

There was no other reason to want to smile, no other reason for the ache in his chest as he held it in, as he kept his face smooth, as he held himself precisely the proper distance away, as he kept each step steady.

He was _not_ going to spin her around, lift her off her feet and listen for her laugh, was not going to display his joy in her success so overtly.

_She is perfect._

There was nothing wrong with being pleased with one's delegate. Being proud of her.

With liking her.

It was satisfactory to have a charge of whom he could be so proud.

Proud of Ria's fine work, as well, how becomingly all that golden hair was swept _up,_ the barest few tendrils to curl against the line of her neck...

No.

He was here to teach her to dance in preparation for the Matchmaker's Judgement, for the Ball.

Not to admire Ria's handiwork.

Not to admire _her,_ not more than was proper.

It had been so straightforward when they first started, the basics of courtesy and curtsies; it was easy to remember his position, and hers. He was her _servant;_ she'd requested his aid.

He would help, and then he would stand back to let her finish the Summit a success.

He'd never doubted her success.

But today he could feel her _breathe,_ the lift of her ribs so close to his. He could feel the soft pressure of her hand, could smell the floral rinse Ria had made for her hair, could hear the soft whisper of her slippers against the floor as they turned, almost hidden beneath the slightly louder tap of his soles. Today he was close enough to count her eyelashes, to trace precisely the shape the shape of the shadows they cast against her cheeks, close enough to...

Today he didn't want to stand back.

He didn't want to let go.

He wanted the dance to last forever.


	5. yellow roses (Cordelia of Hise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka the beginning of a beautiful friendship
> 
> ([tumblr](http://faejilly.tumblr.com/post/173098573478))

She was still. In the entire hall of mingling and milling delegates, the few spots of stillness stood out. 

Dowager Countess Yvette of Arland had a small circle of space around her chair, but delegates washed up against her, short soft conversations and the shift of her hands as she spoke. Lady Avalie of Jiyel was beautiful and sharp and deadly and never shifted from her spot, as if the entire rest of the party was swirling around simply for her own edification. She looked as if she was poised to strike, tension coiling somewhere behind her eyes; even though she wasn’t moving, she clearly wasn’t at rest.

The Hise delegation was the _least_  still, which made Princess Cordelia stand out all the more. Quiet and poised, in a beautiful dress and immaculately styled hair. She greeted every other delegate in exactly the same way, calm and sweet and polite. No favorites, no dismissals, but she was as warm as Princess Gisette was cold, as gentle as Lady Jaslen was sharp. 

She was a joy to watch, an exquisite moment of peace in an otherwise frantic world. It was impossible to tell how far beneath her manners her real thoughts lingered. It was equally impossible not to want to find out, if only to see if her real smile was somehow even sweeter than the one she gifted with every greeting, every farewell.

How would she smile at a friend?


End file.
